


Machine

by BunPancake



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist (Live Action), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, 青鳥の虛像 Fullmetal Alchemist | Fullmetal Alchemist: Bluebird's Illusion
Genre: Comedy, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Light Dom/sub, Minor Violence, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Romance, Rough Sex, Scars, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14546103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunPancake/pseuds/BunPancake
Summary: Riza Hawkeye was not having a good day and is uncharacteristically angry. A new addition to the office pushes her further. Good thing Roy Mustang knows a thing or two about stress release.





	Machine

Riza Hawkeye has never been so infuriated in her life. Yes, you read that right. The calm, cool, and collected Hawk’s Eye in rage. Over a machine. 

They were expensive, but the Amestrian State Military has purchased about three dozen of them and placed them in various offices to test them out. Apparently, they make copies of paperwork faster than previous technology. And that would be true, if it would _fucking work_.

A loud bang caused everyone in the vicinity to look up. Jean Havoc dropped his cigarette out of his mouth in surprise. Kain Fuery and Heymans Breda both held a scared look. Hawkeye’s fringe shadowed her surely deathly eyes, a fist on the side of the machine. How she had not cracked it or refrained from doing so is beyond anyone. The same concern in multiple members of the office that it was going to wrecked by her already existed ten minutes ago, but unvoiced.

Roy Mustang wanted to say: “ _I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to fix a paper jam_ ,” but for once he considered that his snarky mouth could actually get him shot.

Maybe it was the fact that she’s a firearms expert, and a simple machine that is just supposed to give her copies wasn’t doing it. There were multiple paper jams along with problems with the ink today. Hawkeye took a step back and glared at the non-sentient being as if that would will it into obedience. It somehow does not.

She didn’t have much sleep the night prior, at least two salespeople wanted to chat with her on her way to work today even with her saying she was in a hurry, and there had been a traffic jam due to something silly. And now this _despicable_ piece of sh-

The hand reaching for her holster was enveloped by another, warmth spilling over her colder hands. She looked up at deep, dark eyes.

“Enough, Captain Hawkeye. We’ll get someone else to try and fix this. Why don’t you go take a coffee break?”

She looked at Mustang blankly for a moment before walking out. Back straight, head held high but just the slightest heavier of footsteps than usual indicating the mood she’s in.

“Shouldn’t someone go with her? You know, to make sure no _murder_ ensues,” Havoc coughed, once she’s out of earshot. “I haven’t seen her in such a mood since the Brigadier General’s last major fuck up.”

Mustang begins to defend himself against such preposterous accusation but was drowned out by several murmurs of agreement around the room. There was a pause. Then…

“I’ve got work to do-“

“I’m _very_ busy with this-“  


“Not _me_ , please-“

They quiet down from their simultaneous excuses, then all eyes turned to Mustang as if this was rehearsed. He sighed, not like he was going to get any work done without Riza around.

“Alright.”

“You’re a womaniser, Brigadier General, you must know the great effects of stress relief on the act of-“ An annoyed glance at Havoc shuts him up.

“You guys be good and do work while I’m gone.” He finalised half-assedly before shutting the door behind him.

 

 

In the empty break room, Hawkeye stared blankly at the pot before her, the loud screech of the boiled water surrounded her. The rays of sunlight peeking through the window should bring about pleasant optimism, for the day was annoyingly nice, however, she felt just a bit sentimental instead.

A hand reached around her to turn off the stove. She blinked and was one step behind him when he was already turning her around, hands gentle on her shoulders. He brushed his fingers through her fringe so her eyes were in view.

“Burning down buildings is my job,” he smiled softly but continued. “What’s going on?”

“ _Fucking_ printer-“ she scowled. 

“It’s more than just a printer,” his gaze was soft on her, sympathetic.

“No,” she signed, defeated. “But it’s a lot of printers. I’ve dealt with a lot in our time- you know best. But these few weeks are up there. Maybe not Ishval level but _still_ -“

Mustang nodded in understanding. He was there, after all. And it’s not like his usual antics made it easy.

“Oh, don’t you start,” she said as if she possessed some supernatural telepathic power that reads his mind. “Yeah, you slack off sometimes, but not more than usual. I made two mistakes this week. I’m letting it get to me, and I feel weak. Like I’m decreasing in my skills,” she clenched her hands into fists. “I’m frustrated with myself.”

His fingers grazed her cheek, and she looked up at him instead of at his chest.

“You can do it,” his eyes were determined. “I believe in you as much as you believe in me. I genuinely think you just need some time to relax, and then you’ll be back in your scarily concentrated bulletproof headspace. Not that you aren’t scary now, the boys were seriously concerned you’ll kill someone-“

She mirrored his smile with a small curve of the edge of her lips.

‘ _That’s a good sign_ ,’ he thought.

“The only one who should be afraid of being killed is you, sir,” she mused. 

‘ _Even better_.’

He leaned into her and gives her a full, deep kiss. She returned it but then pushed on him slightly after a moment.

“This is the break room at work, Roy,” she said, laced with uncertainty.

“I had more plans to help you than some jokes,” he smirked.

She blushed and considered for a moment her current state and the damned printer in the office taunting her.

“Okay-” she relented and he smiled widely in response. “But not here. Anyone could come in for a coffee.”

Mustang looked up out the window into the distance, bit the inside of his mouth in thought, then seemed to remember something.

“Follow me.”

 

 

Hesitant but trusting, Hawkeye trailed behind him out of the room. The few people they saw on the way paid them no mind with mostly just quick nods of acknowledgment. That is until a blinding sparkle seemed to make itself known from the end of the hallway. Mustang braced himself. Major Alex Armstrong. This might be a problem.

“Brigadier General, Captain!” He greeted them warmly. It seemed to radiate off him almost suffocatingly.

“Major Armstrong,” They greeted back in almost unison.

“Well, you are a ways away from your office, huh? Got business?”

Mustang laughed nervously, “Yes, well, the printers-“

“Say no more,” Armstrong boomed. “They are a pain in the bum, I know. Well, I shall not keep you any longer.”

After saying their goodbyes, and out of earshot, Mustang sighed, relieved.

“Apparently that was the right thing to say.”

“We got very lucky,” Hawkeye agreed in disbelief that the encounter did not turn into some contest of strength.

Another few minutes and they reached a quieter part of the building, most of the rooms unused. Opening the door to one, Mustang locked it behind them.

“What?” Mustang noticed and mirrored the small smile she wore.

“I feel as if we’re teenagers sneaking around a school,” she mused, hopping to sit on a desk.

Mustang went behind her to close the blinds on the windows. She shifted on the desk to turn to him. He approached her, smile widens into a smirk.

“So do I get to ‘mess around’ with my girl, now?”

She smiled at the deliberate terms but couldn’t stop the blood slightly lighting up her cheeks. He leaned close and surely the heat from hers transferred while he closed the gap between their lips. One hand of his went on her arm, the other, not quite as innocent, slid up her thigh, making soft strokes. Both of hers were placed around his neck.

At that moment, he never wanted to be Führer more if only so that she could be donned in a mini skirt instead. Nevertheless, his efforts were not in vain, Hawkeye could already feel heat rising slowly at the touch of his hand. He moved in closer to press up against her, forcing her legs to spread, allowing his waist to fit in between. Suddenly, he broke the kiss.

“Havoc implied that we should,” he looked down “to, you know, stress relief.”

She planted a kiss on his jaw, feeling a bit of stubble. 

“So you’re following advice from Havoc,” a teasing twinkle in her eye.

“Fuck _no,_ ” he frowned.

“Then?” She raised an eyebrow after another kiss on his cheek. 

“I was already…” he pushed closer, she bit her bottom lip when she felt his hardness against her.

Then something clicks in her mind. “What? When I was _suffering_?”

He bit down hard on his lip, suppressing laughter at her uncharacteristic drama, but he couldn’t hide his unremorseful smile.

“Riza, _honey_ ,” he emphasised sarcastically, taunting her. “You were pressed up against that thing, bent over at times, and _that ass_ …”

“You were fantasising about fucking me while I dealt with my life _enemy_?”

“Pfft,” he lets slip a laugh. Her exaggerations were too funny. “You’re being more dramatic than me- and I don’t take jabs at myself you know that,” he leaned forward to pepper kisses up her right cheek, voice dropping an octave when he arrived next to her ear. “Besides, you’re _irresistibly_ sexy all the time and I’d fuck you anywhere.”

She let her irrational anger go.

“What will we tell them? That we went on a super long coffee break?” She asked, practical as ever even in these moments.

“We went to meditate, and that took a while,” he said in between kisses. 

“If anyone believes that I’ll quit the military,” she deadpanned. 

“Gun range,” he paused to look at her. “Shooting normally helps you right?”    


“For once, a good idea. _Actually_ , that might be faster and more efficien-“ Hawkeye squealed and drew in her arms away from him as he attacked her sides.

“Nope, we’re not stopping this,” he made his best mock sad puppy eyes. “Pity my dick.” 

She burst out laughing at that. “Okay, okay…but we better make it quick.”

  
Hawkeye caught his smirk for a brief moment before he descended. She sat up straighter to follow his actions but the next thing she felt was a gentle kiss on her clothed center. Tingles shot through her.

Mustang smiled. He stood up again and undid her blue uniform bottoms. He slid them off her thighs, deliberately tracing lightly down her legs. She shuddered. He descended again and her gaze followed. He glanced up at her. 

“Don’t stop looking at me,” he ordered, dark eyes with an unmistakable lustful hue cast over them.

She can only nod, her mouth suddenly dry.

With h er pants at her ankles, he tilted his head to start at the back of his knee, lifting her leg upward slightly with his hand. A lick. A soft bite. She felt tingles on the bottom of her feet. This start in the journey is a surprisingly sensitive spot for her that he found ages ago. The drag of the tongue up her thigh. A sudden stop. Another bite, harder now, it seamlessly merged into a drag upwards, teeth digging into tender skin. She knew those were sure to leave marks. He met the junction between the thigh and the lips of her pussy. He sucked there. She gasped, bucking slightly but his other hand held her in place, his fingernails digging in.

He looked up to meet her gaze, licking his bottom lip. “Other side now.”

She groaned but found it in herself to retort: “I thought we agreed to be quick.”

“It’s an upward slope,” he smirked. “We’ll be doing it _quick_ fast enough.” Innuendo dripping off his words. “Besides, I'm mindful,” he nodded at the clock on the wall.

He did not wait for a response to go back to work on her left thigh, as if a devoted servant to her grace.He started at the knee again, but not at the back. He kissed just below the kneecaps, working his way up. A hand scratched slightly behind, on her thighs. Hard enough not to be ticklish but light enough to tease. He made his way to the inner thighs like building a circular staircase on her body with his mouth. A nip, a bite, a suck. He had full intention of bruising her, of colouring her thighs in reds, blues, and blacks. He looked up and met her eyes this as he licked the delicious river that separates the decent from the indecent. Her thigh from her cunt. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He hooked his fingers over both sides of her underwear and peel them off slowly. He looked at the glistening cotton before he lightly touched it. The wetness she produced created a string between his fingertip and the fabric. He smirked when he licked his finger.

“Good foreplay is effective,” he couldn’t resist being smug even then.

“You should be tasting from the source,” she shot back.

“Hmm? If that’s what you want, shouldn’t you be asking nicely?”

She sighed, slightly frustrated but mostly embarrassed. _So this is how he wanted to play_.

“Please lick me,” she complied. 

“Who should lick you?” he pushed. 

“Please lick me, _sir_ ,” her skin was painted with red. 

“ _Where_?”

She resisted punching him in the face.

“Please lick my cunt, sir,” she tried to look away in embarrassment but a hand brought her face back towards him. 

“Tsk, what a good, dirty mouth,” he smirked and she wanted to wipe it off so bad. “Don’t stop looking at me, though.” 

His hand on her cheek fell away. He licked her outer lips only, adamant in avoiding the center.

“That’s not f-fair, sir,” she bit down. “I-I’ve…” her words lingered in her mind, loud and clear but she couldn’t bring herself to say it as she flushed deep.

_‘I’ve begged…’_

He gazed up at her, decided against anymore teasing due to their time constraint and his sympathy. He slid his tongue up her slit without breaking eye content.

The way she furrowed her brows in ecstasy and the slight gasp she made gave him _life_. 

The dance continued, he didn’t look away, savouring in her blissful expression as she writhed helplessly against his grip. Licks against her sweetness, gentle sucks against her clit, and the probing of his tongue just slightly past her entrance. She squirmed like she wanted to get away like she was doused in too much lust to handle it, and she was. But her hands came up to grip at his hair, the locks that she loved so much now being pulled against as if she hated them, but she was desperate to keep him against her cunt.

He looked on while he worked his tongue and thought he could possibly _die_ like this, giving her the best she deserved. Giving her what he had been unable to give for so long.

He pulled away slowly from the slippery mess he made. She bit her bottom lip once more, observing the lewd strands of saliva that connected them.

Before he even stood to his full height, she had started to turn. He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“You said you were watching me at the printer, sir,” she said, her voice intended to be nonchalant but came out soft and teasing.

His knees felt weak.

He made quick work of his pants, the patience from earlier acts lost, his eyes focused on the scarred tattoo and burn of her back. The many colours of pink, white, and beige. Unblended like a painting. A painful segment of the beautiful living art that she is, but somehow no less breathtaking.

There was the sound of his belt, pants, and boxers dropped to the floor in a ruffle of clothes and slight clang of metal. He began to trail a finger down her spine, only the tips grazing her skin. She shuddered. He traveled down the bend in the small of her back, and up and down the hill of her buttocks. He dug his fingers right above her thigh and gripped, he watched enchanted as her folds separate and he has to hold back a groan, relishing in it as if an award at the end of a journey.

But he knows he has obtained the best long ago. Her beside him, all these years.

She reached back, gripping his thigh impatiently, attempting to push him closer. He chuckled. She paused and tried for a different course and found his cock. 

“Mmm,” he hummed lowly, letting her guide him to where he belonged, shifting forward. He took her hand in his, guide it back on the wood of the desk.

There was a pause. Two hands gripped her hips. Anticipation hung painfully on her.

She gasped as he slid in. Her pussy ached from the relief and ached at the dissatisfaction. ‘ _More_.’ She needed more. 

His thrusts were slow like he implied earlier, they sped up too slowly for her liking but she cannot deny the pleasure that shot through her every time it came out completely then back in. He had started off shallow but each thrust brought him deeper in.

“Ah!” She cried out suddenly.

“Shhhh,” he urged, but grin plastered on his face knowing full well what he hit.

As if marking a new era, she yelped in surprise at the slap that came down on her left cheek.

He bit back a moan watching the result in the form of a lewd jiggle and the spread of red against her paler in comparison flesh. He enjoyed this, splashing colours on her like she is his canvas. He entertained the thought of leaning down to create blacks and blues against her neck but thought better against it. The ones on her thighs will have to suffice. And as the new era dictated, the speed increased.

“Mm…” her moans are controlled but barely, low hums in the forms of ms and ns. Her knuckles were white, gripped the edge of the wood.

The sound of their skin against each other in every meeting of the thrusts echoed through the room. Her sounds became more frantic. He grunted in response. 

“Wait!” She said abruptly, in an urgent whisper.

He halted and heard what she had milliseconds later.

From the far side of the wall this room resides in, footsteps and voices echoed.

“I heard Lieutenant Ackers and Sergeant Lange had sex in a broom closet,” a youthful tone rang through the hall.

“Shhh, Lucas! What if someone hears you? You shouldn’t gossip about your superiors,” their companion replied. 

“No one’s here, _relax_ , Anna!”

Mustang can’t help but smile at their ignorance. They continue down the hall towards the room they occupy. Their footsteps and voices getting louder. An idea tempted him in his mind, irresistible. It was going to either be the best or worse one he’s had in a while.

He began to move, to thrust once more, slowly. Hawkeye whipped her head back to look at him with widened eyes. His grin morphed into a smirk. He remained quiet, avoiding the loud sound of skin to skin contact but otherwise kept up an increasing speed during the other parts of his thrusts. A familiar look began to form on her face, no longer shocked or in anger. He reached around and found her clit, started a slow rub that quickly increases with his thrusts.

They are passing only a few steps away now. Their voices loud and clear, but Hawkeye could not concentrate on its content, only the excruciating exercise of trying to keep silent. She tasted blood on her lips. Her face morphed into further pleasure as her mouth opens up in a silent scream. He wished that he could lift his hand and slide his fingers in, to have her bite down, but his grip remained on her hips and his other hand worked magic on her clit.

They pass by the room as she came as if through some impeccable timing. He knew because he has to suppress a groan both from watching her face and from her tightening around him.

She dropped her face down onto the table, taking a few moments to come down from her high. When she had the energy to she immediately turned to glare at him. His only response is to lick his fingers at her with a smirk. Another few short moments passed and the unsuspecting corporals had left the hallway, the surroundings silent once again.

He was in still in her, hard. Not a few seconds passed before he started again. Her moans returned in soft whispers. The buildup takes less time this round, soon enough he was thrusting at the speed before when she climaxed. Another playful slap to her ass and she gasped in response, arched her back and it was like he was kindling and she was fire. She set him ablaze. One hand slid up to grip her shoulders. The other lingered as he’s conflicted between pulling her hair or sticking the fingers that had toyed with her into her mouth. He chose the latter. She bit down on it and he groans, as their movements become more frantic, less controlled, so do their breathing and the sinful noises they make.

She drew blood.

With strength from his hips, he pounded on harder, before stiffening and letting out a deliciously pleasure-filled groan. She felt his warmth spilling into her as he made his final thrusts, slow and hard and deep before pulling away. He retrieved the fingers in her mouth and she dropped forward onto the desk, no longer held in position by him. They both panted in exhaustion and sweat drips off her back and his forehead.

He watched, mesmerised as his white spilled out of her entrance.

“We should get back,” she murmured after he turned her around onto her back to give her a kiss. “Try and make ourselves presentable somehow,” her eyes held laughter.

 

 

Havoc looked up from the paper on his desk as the Brigadier General and Captain entered the office. “Long coffee break.” He teased, glancing at them with confidence like he knows all.

Mustang is not intimidated. “Gun range,” he nodded. “Good for stress relief.”

“Oh,” Havoc turned away so the Brigadier General cannot see his unsuppressed, knowing smirk.

Deciding that he valued his life more than getting an upper hand on Mustang, he kept his knowledge to himself. He did not want to get shot by the Hawk’s Eye today. But he also had not seen them at the gun range or on the way when he went to handle something just ten minutes ago.

 

 

 

_A few days later..._

Hawkeye stared at the device in disdain. She tried to resist the urge to throw it out a window. 

Havoc silently mused if more office sex between his superiors is going to occur as a result of this. 

“It’s a coffee machine! Makes it much easier.” The officer said gleefully, before finding a place in the back of the office to place it. “We’re not putting it in the break room in case someone breaks it but, we’ll have some there after at least some people familiarise themselves.”

Mustang bit back his thought about how the poor machine being in the same room as Hawkeye is probably more dangerous for it than anywhere else. He looked at her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively but sillily. She tried to murder him by glare.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, the smut fic appeared sooner than I expected. Please give the benefit of the doubt with the appearance of modern printers and coffee machines despite the time setting.


End file.
